All these things I've done
by SolitaryPoison
Summary: Harry finds himself in a world not his own,where the dead are alive and he is not who he was. Can he right the wrongs he commited in both worlds, or will he lose himself to the path he shouldn't have chosen? SLASH,AU
1. Prolouge my friend Insanity

Disclaimer: I only own the stuff you don't recognise. Random song about sun is from Annie- it just seemed to fit.

Warnings: Loads! ummm...Past rape and child abuse. Mild insanity. Swearing. Slash. AU. Mightget a bit gory later...that's it for now.

Pairings: Undecided but main pairing will be slash. Past HP/LV

I know I really shouldn't be writing another story since I'm so crap at updating the others but I couldn't help it! I actually like this chapter! Very strange!

**Prologue**

He laughed. A cold, heartless, senseless laugh that reverberated through the stone fortress. He scraped his dirty, broken finger nails down the wall in an attempt to claw his way up from the ground, but his skeletal arm was not strong enough to lift his emaciated body and he collapsed back down to the dirt ridden floor, unmoving. He drew in a deep, wheezing breath before letting it out in a hacking cough. He moved his hand away from his mouth and stared transfixed at the red that covered it, different shades, some clumped together, almost solid.

He wiped the hand against the filthy rags that hung off his bones, and then crawled back to his corner, curling up against it like a child would its mother. Then, with shallow, shuttering breaths he fell into a deep slumber.

It was dark when he woke up. But then, it was always dark. The suns rays could not penetrate the shadows that surrounded the island, weaving a blanket of everlasting, starless night. He drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly. He surveyed his cell with unseeing eyes, searching for secrets in the shadows. There was nothing. Not even a spider could survive in the desolate fortress.

He hugged his knees tighter as he felt a familiar coldness infect him, sweeping away the blessed numbness that had become his friend. He pushed himself further into the corner. Squeezing his eyes painfully shut he tried to hold back a whimper. One thought went round and around in his mind: Be happy.

"The sun will come out tomorrow, but your bottom dollar that tomorrow they'll be sun."

His voice was hoarse from disuse, weak and out of tune, but the only audience he had wouldn't know the difference.

"Just thinkin' about tomorrow clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow, 'till there's none."

They were drawing closer, he knew. Close enough to sense his fear, to roll it on the tip of their tongues then swallow it whole like a jelly snake that would slide delightfully down their throats.

"When I'm stuck a day that's grey, and lonely, I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say…"

His voice trailed off as his body began shaking uncontrollably, dark thoughts seeping through the cracks in his sanity.

"The sun'll come out…to…morrow, so ya gotta hang…on… 'till tomorrow… Come what…may. Tomorrow…Tomorrow…I love you…tomor…row…Yo…your always…a…da-"

He slammed his hands against his temples with a scream, rocking back and forth.

"Be happy, be happy, be happy…happy…happy…"

And as his terrified emerald eyes saw the ghastly black robed forms coming towards him, he screamed and spun once more into a mix of dreaded memories and sacred insanity.

Harry didn't much like the Dementors.

"_Not Harry! Anything but Harry!"_

"_Stand aside you silly girl."_

They were the children of shadows and nightmares.

"_This is your fault you freak!"_

"_No…I-"_

"_You'll pay for this boy! You won't be able to breath without screaming by the time I'm done with you!"_

They delighted in his screams, his fear, his endless, pointless, crystalline tears.

"_Kill the spare."_

They luxuriated in the way his body writhed as images crashed through his mind, tearing through the last, lingering, threads of occlumency.

"_Sirius! No!"_

"_He's gone Harry, you can't save him."_

"_Sirius!"_

They relished the way he dug his stumpy finger nails into his arms, scratching and tearing so that his nails were caked in blood and dirt, as he tried to find something, **anything** that would bring him back to reality. He tried to ignore the whispering voice in his head that said this **was** reality.

"_This is all your fault!"_

"_My dear boy…"_

"_I hate you! I fucking hate you! You're worse than Him!"_

They made him remember things that would never be forgotten.

"_Well Harry? Will you join me? Will you fight by my side? Live, breath and die by my word?"_

"_I.."_

"_You can never change your mind. If you say no we will be enemies until the end of time. If you say yes you will be mine when every race is dead, when the last star falls screaming from the sky, when the last god drifts weeping into everlasting sleep."_

"_I.."_

"_You can never go back."_

"_-"_

"_Well? Will you pledge yourself to me or will you fight for the mudblood lover?"_

"_I am yours my Lord, until death."_

They made him remember words he never should have said, things he never should have done, decisions he never should have made, shouldn't have been **made** to make.

"_Kill her Harry. Show me that your mine."_

"_But…But my Lord, she's a child, she hasn't done anything."_

"_She's a Mudblood Harry, a dirty little mudblood that never should have existed in the first place!"_

"_Av…Avada Kedavra…"_

"_Well done my snakelet!" _

They submerged him in a past weaved from laughter and lies. A life he lived in a time when there was more than the darkness, though it was debatable whether he had ever t**ruly** lived at all.

"_You traitor! You killed him! You killed your best friend! How could you Harry? I thought you loved us. I thought we were your friends."_

"_Love? Friendship? They mean nothing! There is only power and those too weak to seek it."_

They wrapped him in a burning cover of freezing feelings. Filled him with a despair brighter than the North star.

"_I can't do this anymore…"_

No, Harry didn't much like the Dementors. But really, that was because he didn't much like himself.

He almost cried out every time they left, almost begged them to stay and make him less alone. Almost.

Harry didn't like being left alone. He didn't like the person he was left alone with. He wasn't very nice. Harry told Him to leave but he wouldn't. Harry tried to block Him out, to hide, to pretend that there was only him. But it isn't easy to hide from yourself and he couldn't run from his mind, though sometimes it seemed his mind was running away from him, leaving it's friend Insanity to keep him company.

Harry liked it when Insanity came round to play. They walked on paths of flesh and bones, past houses made of dragons wings, and rivers that ran with unicorn's blood. They sat on hills of rolling eyes, blue and green and brown and hazel and, Oh, red eyes as well. The tree's were black, and in the summer heads sprouted from the red pulsating eggs that grew on the branches. And the heads would laugh and scream as they passed, their red eyes spinning lazily in their sockets.

They watched a battle between the cats and the dogs, the cats growling while the dogs flicked their tails in annoyance. They saw a fish with wings, flying low and skimming the river while wingless birds with featheryscales tried to stay afloat in the silvery blood.

But Insanity never stayed very long, never long enough, and sanity would once again claim him. They would sit in the cell and stare at dirt and blood covered walls, listening to the screams of the other inmates.

Harry didn't know how long he had been in Azkaban. The days had long since blurred into endless nothings, never a sign to show that one day had ended and another had began. It could have been months, years, decades even! Or maybe it had only been a week, a day, a few hours. Who could tell? It didn't make a difference anyway. What would it matter how long he had been there? He was never going to leave.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock, midnight all the bodies rot."

Harry liked to sing to himself. It was a noise other than the screams.

"Eyes fall out and pour out blood, heart is beating in the mud."

His songs were macabre and disheartening but they were his and they took up his time. Anyways, it would have been silly to sing about birds and butterflies and daisy chains. Not that Harry knew how to make a daisy chain, but Ginny had given him one once. It had been delicate and beautiful and alive, but it withered and died and rotted.

He felt his eyes getting heavy and yawned. He slept a lot those days. He didn't have enough energy to stay awake for long. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes, succumbing to the numbing weariness that was washing though him. He never heard the whisper…

"Sleep Harry, for the day will soon be dawning, and life awaits you. The gods are not done with you yet…Sleep."


	2. Not right

Disclaimer: Same as before

Warnings: Ditto 

He regretted opening his eyes instantly. Squeezing them tightly shut with a wince he groaned. Then, as his mind cleared, a preposterous thought entered his head. That head seemed like…light. But it couldn't be. There was no light in Azkaban. Then he noticed that he wasn't lying on stone but on a bed. And while it wasn't the softest he'd ever slept on, at that moment it felt like heaven.

The next thing to register was the steady beeping of a machine, then footsteps that were echoing down the hallway. But…Dementors didn't make noise when they walked. They didn't even have feet! He heard the door open and he tensed as someone walked towards him.

"Mr Potter! It's nice to finally see you awake. You looked a bit of a mess when you were brought in."

"Too…bright."

"Too…Oh, I'll just close the curtains."

Harry hesitantly opened his eyes again, and was relieved to find that, while it was still light, it no longer burnt his eyes. He tried to speak once more but all that came out was a hoarse croak. He strugglingly sat up and the lady put a glass to his lips. He drank as if water was a gift from the gods. It was so clear, so clean! He sighed in ecstasy when he was done and surveyed the room.

It was white, startlingly so, and full of beeping machines with wires that were connected to…him. There was a large window with curtains pulled across it and a random plant in the corner.

"Wh…where am I?" He asked, voice still weak.

The brown haired woman smiled, as she looked at a clipboard. "You're at the Royal Albert hospital in London Harry. You were brought here by a member of the public a week ago. He found you lying in the street."

"London? A week? I…I don't…"

"You were in such a terrible state we weren't sure you were going to make it, and- oh, I've forgotten to introduce myself haven't I! I'm nurse Reynolds but you can call me Holly. We'll be keeping you in for at least a week for observation. Do you have any relatives you'd like us to call? Friends perhaps?" The nurse was annoyingly cheery, a large smile permanently fixed on her face, and made Harry wonder what was so great about being around complaining sick people all day. He didn't ask.

"Ummm…No. No one." Nurse Reynolds' face fell, something which gave Harry a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Well I-" Beep. Beep. Beep. The Nurse looked at the pager clipped to her waistline.

"Exscuse me Harry, it seems I'm needed elsewhere."

Harry almost sighed in relief as he watched her leave and decided to take advantage of what was normally a momentary lucidity. He waited for a few minutes to see if she would come back, then pulled the wires out of his body and climbed out of bed, wincing slightly. He frowned at the white hospital gown he was wearing but, seeing no clothes in the room, resigned himself to wearing it a little while longer. He opened the door quietly and looked down the corridor, checking that it was empty, then left the room.

With every step he expected the white walls to shimmer and dissolve, to twist and bleed into the dank, dark cell that had become his cell. With every second of silence he waited to here the tortured, broken screams, the begging, the pleading, the endless, never changing existence in Azkaban. He felt a slight dissension within himself as brothers sanity and insanity argued over who would rule his mind. For the first time in years sanity won, and insanity crawled whimpering and snarling into the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind, waiting for the glass walls of Harry's wind to crack and shatter.

It was as Harry was walking down the corridor, looking into the various patients rooms, that he saw the answer to his problem. He waited till he saw someone that looked roughly his size and stole gently into their room. The boy lying in the hospital bed looked pale and sickly, his bones far too prominent to be natural, a skeleton with paper thin skin stretched far too tight. He was almost as thin as Harry.

Harry opened the cupboard, wincing at the loud creak, and rummaged through the clothes. T shirts posed no problem, and he found a plain black t-shirt that was only a little large on him. Trousers however, were a nightmare. He tried on jeans, corduroys and trousers that he didn't think were even meant to fit. None of them were Harry's size. Eventually, all that was left was a pair of leather trousers. Considering Harry wanted to be inconspicuous they weren't the best choice, but they were the only ones that didn't fall down when Harry walked, probably because they were skin tight.

He found a pair of scruffy black trainers and, after putting them on, made his way over to the window. Throwing a quick apology over his shoulder to the boy in the bed he opened the window and climbed down to the ground, before taking off with a sprint. He didn't get very far. After five minutes of running his breath was ragged and his chest heaving. He leant against a wall, gasping for breath. Azkaban had not been good for his fitness levels.

He stumbled onwards, looking for anything he recognized. But the walls weren't bleeding and he couldn't hear screaming. And he wasn't enclosed, he could walk and walk and keep on walking. It was so unfamiliar to him that he almost wished he were back in his cell, back home where everything was the same and he always knew where he was, what he was doing. Harry had forgotten about the existence of change.

He staggered into the road and a car swerved around him beeping its horn angrily. Harry ignored it and carried on with no destination. It was only when he fell to his knees in front of a dilapidated building that he realised he was on once familiar ground. He pushed himself off of the ground and, after arranging his knotted, past shoulder length hair to cover his face, slipped into The Leaky Cauldron.

He kept to the shadows, blending in, which wasn't hard due to the dim lighting and smoky air. His mind processed snatches of conversation as he walked through.

"The ministry are sayin' 'e's dead. So is Dumbledore It 'as been 'alf a year."

"The other four Lords are obviously happy. All of them have one less rival."

"Have you seen the price of Newts tails? It's robbery!"

"Grindewalds still the biggest danger. He's mad. Insanity is dangerous"

"Ring a ring o' roses, a pocket full o' posies…"

"Voldemort hasn't caused much trouble lately."

"Probably planning something. They're always planning something."

"Damn!"

"D'you 'ear abou' ol' Mr Gry? Killed 'imslef 'e did."

"Two light Lords and two Dark Lords. I guess it's even again.l"

He learnt against the wall that served as the barrier between the magical and muggle worlds. None of what he had heared had made any sense. Four Lords, two Dark, two Light? There was only Vodemort and Dumbledore, and they were both dead, he had made sure of that. And Grindewald? He had been defeated 100 years ago, give or take a decade or two. Not even Harry's unstable mind would accept that three powerful wizards had come back from the dead. Not to mention an unnamed Light Lord and the rival that was presumed dead. It was like the entire world had changed since he'd been in Azkaban.

He racked his mind for the brick combination to enter Diagon Alley and came up blank. They had changed it during the war anyway so it wouldn't be the same. He swore under his breath, not wanting to be stuck in the muggle world, when a memory came to mind.

"_Shit!" He didn't know the password. He didn't know the password and he had to get out. He had to. He searched the room frantically for another exit, but there was only this one, and it was passworded both ways. He slammed his fist against the door, then both his hands, screaming "Open!" He felt the ecstasy inducing rush of magic, felt it pool at his hands, then in spill out onto the door, weaving it's way into the woodwork and wards. Seconds later the door sprung open, and Harry ran from the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix._

He pressed his palms against the brick wall and concentrated, feeling the wards that were intertwined in the very making of the wall. Then, for the first time in goddess knows how long, he felt his own reserve of magic spring up at his command. He pushed it into the wall, fighting the wards. Every second sapped the energy from dwindling his magic supply. But finally he could feel the bricks moving under his fingers and he got his first view of Diagon Alley.

I looked like it had the first time he had seen it. All those years ago when he was young and so goddamn naïve. The shops were covered in bright advertisements, people sat outside cafes, basking in the sun, children laughed and ran through the street. It wasn't like the Diagon Alley he had seen in his mind in Azkaban.

He stood in the shadows as he watched the Death Eaters worked, casting curses.. Witches, wizards, adults, teenagers, children. They were all hit, all screamed, all died. Every sound was a dagger in his heart, every death a sharp twist of the handle. But this was his own choice, no one else's. He did this. He made to spin around as he felt arms wrap around his waste, but they were too tight. Then he heard the hiss of parsletounge and relaxed into the familiar embrace. "Can you taste their fear my snakelet? I can roll it on my tongue and savour ever little bit. Their screams are music to my ears, sweet harmonies." Harry shivered as the sweetly whispered words drifted through his mind. He felt Voldemorts lips on his neck and gasped as they bit down softly, the kissed. "You will learn to enjoy it my sweet, whether you want to or not."

He remembered the rubble that had filled the alley. The dead bodies that had littered the floor, repaving the old cobbled floor with blood and rotting corpses. There had been no one to clean up the alley. The Ministry had already been destroyed. The aurors were in chaos. The Order had better things to do.

It was strange to think that the Alley had gone back to normal. It seemed almost impossible to have managed it so quickly. And for people to be so relaxed there…It wasn't right. Something wasn't right.

He kept his head down as he stared at the too clean pavement slabs. He looked up every so often, and he saw people he had known. Old friends, old enemies. Death Eaters, Order members. He watched as the dead walked and talked and laughed. As people he had killed breathed and lived. He saw their deaths flashing through his mind. They were dead. He had seen them die.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't see the person running towards him until it was too late. They both fell to the floor, Harry at the bottom, and the man who fell on him gasped and scrambled up quickly. They stared at each other, frozen, then the other man spoke in a stangled, awe filed, whisper.

"My Lord…You're alive!


End file.
